Sabotage (and other date impediments)

Foreign Suns

There should be no stars in DC. Light pollution has fucked up the atmosphere enough to where one cannot see the beauty of foreign suns, shining through the darkness. Ron promises otherwise.

"It's this thing called a light desert. It's nationally protected!" He's so enthusiastic about this, and for good reason. Poor dude's had this planned in advance for a month, maybe longer. But we are together, in the here and now, in the realm of safety.

Safety looks a lot like my boyfriend's car, radio broadcasting some random indie rock band who warbles about a city in Canada. The overhead lights of the freeway run by, shadows ebbing and flowing like the tide. Everything is perfect.

The flashbacks are not going away, but they're manifesting less and less. I'll take it, especially when I know I have trusted ones around me.

"We're here. It's a bit of a walk, though. No light means no car." We exit the car, vehicle playing a little prerecorded honk as Ron double-locks it. The ground is made up of a gravel path. There are few other cars here. I still do not know exactly where we are, but it must be somewhat remote. I can live with that. I've had enough of humanity for a while.

I slip my left hand into Ron's, fingers lacing like a brand-new shoe. This isn't new to me, but something about this night brings the familiar spark of new beginnings into my mind. The stars start to sparkle overhead. The universe is really fucking beautiful, apparently.

"So are you," Ron gently hums. Wait, what? I must've said that last bit out loud.

I don't know if I'd describe myself as beautiful right now. Recovery has taken its toll, but I've tried to hide it under eyeliner and what seems to be an unhealthy amount of cosmetic serums. Gigi helped. I wear a burnt-orange cardigan over jeans. Not very formal, but that goes for the both of us. Ron has donned a flannel shirt in lieu of his typical suit. It, well, suits him.

There are woods ahead of us. Trees spring from the landscape like bristles on a brush, even yet chaotic. Whorls of fauna dot the ground, the noises of nightlife voicing all around. A canopy of leaves stretch over the both of us, age lengthening the trees to heights we will not ever be able to reach. There's something poignant in that.

Ron's hand is cool, but not clammy. The air is crisp, but it doesn't bite. A series of happy mediums exist like a carefully strung set of lights. Except, no lights, save for the faint aura coming from the moon. The reflection of moonlight faintly shines off of our hair, casting an ethereal glow.

The trees fade out into a field. I still can't believe something like this exists so close to the city. This doesn't seem real. But... it feels real, grounded, here in the moment.

Staedtler takes the lead, running out into the field. His sneakers kick up faint blades of grass, the cold having frozen the fragile plants long ago. I jog after him, taking in the view of the sky.

The stars seem to smile at the both of us. I said we would be safe, and we are.

I find Ron sitting down, arms wrapped around his knees. We make eye contact and I wordlessly sit next to him, before leaning my head on his shoulder, staring off into the sky.

"I love you," I hear myself say. This is the first time I've said it. Have I ever said those words before, to anyone? I realize it doesn't matter to me, not right now. I just want to be here, in the moment.

Staedtler abruptly turns away, interrupting the both of us. "Hang on. I have something in my backpack." I shift my legs out from underneath me, bring them to the right so I can lean in even more. I can get a glimpse of some sort of cheap container, and a whiff of some manufactured floral scent. He gently sets the jar down after smoothing the grass, and that's when I get it.

"A candle? You rebel."

"Only for you, Rea. Only for you."

He chuckles softly, the sound breaking the quiet night. All around us, there is serenity, and maybe, just maybe, a sense of closure.

I lean over, plucking a match from Ron's fingertips. Taking steady breaths, I light the match, holding it to the tip of the wick. It takes a second to catch, but the result is the same. I lift the match towards us, and Ron blows it out with a precise exhale. Smoke curls off into the wind as we once again find each other's lips, and then?

We hold each other like there is no tomorrow.